


Have You Ever

by orphan_account



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Anal Fingering, Bisexuality, Canon Het Relationship, Edging, F/M, Fingerfucking, Het, Honesty, M/M, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Prostate Massage, Public Sex, Restraint, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-15
Updated: 2012-10-15
Packaged: 2017-11-16 08:51:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/537667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Craig and Carla Boone play a little 'Have You Ever' and discuss some old flames.</p><p>Originally posted on the Fallout Kmeme.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Have You Ever

"Your turn."

Carla Boone tapped a finger to her lip and made a show of thinking. "Hmm. Have you ever… have you ever asked a girl to dress up for you?"

Her husband rolled onto his elbow and peered up at her. "Other than you?"

She prodded him with her toes, right in the meaty curve between ass and thigh, and grinned when he swatted her away with a bark of laughter. "No stalling. Asking me to wear your dog tags doesn't count."

"Heh. Lemme see. Never really got into fancy things, not before you. So, uh… you. You looked a picture in that red thing I got you for your birthday. The one with the lace and the straps." He reached over the side of the bed and groped blindly for his beer. "Pity it doesn't still fit."

She smoothed a hand over the hard curve of her belly and giggled. "You should've thought of that before you got me into this condition. Your turn."

Craig took a contemplative swig of his beer. Not too many mornings left like this these days, not with a newborn in a few months. Carla was feeling better these days, not so sick and miserable now that the baby was starting to really show. He'd finished his shift a few minutes early and come home to clean sheets and a bathtub full of hot water, and it'd been a right joy to laze across the foot of the bed and get fizzy drunk while Carla cut a shiny red apple with a pocketknife and flicked the peel at him. He hadn't bothered to dress and neither had she, and from where he lay he could appreciate every inch of her body.

"Have you ever… heh. You ever fooled around in public? Other than me."

Carla laughed and snorted all at once, and laughed harder as she clapped a hand to her nose. "Craig!"

"Round the side of the casino at night," he continued, and raised an eyebrow. "Lights shining in your hair and your nice dress pulled up."

"I may have," she allowed, and grinned when he leaned forward with naked interest written over his features. "Are you angling for sordid details?"

"Might be."

"Something to keep you warm on those long cold nights?" Now and then she'd vist him 'round 3AM with a mug of hot coffee. Most times he dragged Cliff's chair up the stairs for her to sit a while, and he gladly complied when she patted it and suggested she sit on him instead. Usually felt a bit bad about it later though. Probably should wipe the seat clean a bit better. Either way, it kept some heat in his cheeks when the nights felt extra cold.

"Might be," he said again, and caught her foot in his free hand. He rubbed his thumb against the soft skin of her instep, and pressed hard until she moaned. "So who was it?"

"One of those New Reno prizefighters," she said breathily, and with a flex of her toes encouraged him to keep stroking and kneading as he awkwardly set his beer safely back on the ground. "When they had those exhibition matches in New Vegas. They had a function out by the pool garden at The Tops. Beautiful night, lots of drinking and dancing. I was lucky to be invited."

"And?" He kissed her toes and glanced up at his bride.

"And he was so sweet and lovely, and we slipped away into the garden and he fucked me up against the wall." She took a moment to rearrange the pillows at her back. "Are you about to ask how?"

"Yeah," he said, his hand straying to the smooth skin behind her knee to push her legs apart. "Tell me."

"He picked me up like I weighed nothing and held me against the wall as I undid his belt and unbuttoned him."

"You suck him?" He tugged at his cock, hard and heavy against his thigh. They'd been playing this game for a good half hour now, winding each other up with memories and confessions of adventures past, and it was well past the time to cease discussing old memories and set about making some new ones.

"No," she said, and parted her legs properly so that he could get a good look at the tangle of dark curls at the apex of her thighs, already damp and inviting. "No time. When I pulled him out of his shorts he just yanked my panties aside and fucked me good and fast against the wall. My shoulders got so marked up I had to borrow a jacket from one of the other girls there."

Craig rolled onto his hands and knees and crawled up the bed. He settled between her legs and sighed with pleasure as she obliging reached down to spread herself for him. He kissed her fingers and kissed her clit, open mouthed and eager.  
"Keep going," he said, and chuckled when she squirmed under his cool breath. "You come for him?"

Carla waited until he found his rhythm before answering, her toes curling as he licked with broad steady strokes and curled his fingers deep inside her, stroking against the spot that made her hips jerk. "Close," she said, and blindly pressed her hand to the close crop of his hair. "I tried, but it didn't matter. You were right though. He did pull my dress up and the lights shone in my hair." She bit her lip, trying to match up with the push-pull of his hand. "You want to know if he came?"

He mumbled something unintelligible into her skin, the vibration of his voice and the steady beckoning of his fingers making her moan and grind against his face.

"Faster," she gasped, and he obediently obliged. "He fucked me real hard and - _oh_ \- he pulled out and he striped me real hot right - don't stop, _please don't stop_ \- right where you're kissing me."

He glanced up over the curve of her belly, and she took the opportunity to scratch her short nails over the jut of his jaw. He fucked her faster with her fingers and she moaned her approval.

"Right here," he said, and kissed her labia. "And here." He buried his nose into her black curls and kissed the peak of her pubic bone. "And here," he finished, muffled as he kissed her clit and sucked it as hard as he dared, revelling in her shocked squeal as she came hard against his mouth, his nose and chin smothered in a wash of wetness. He gave her some time, teased her through another gasp and stutter of her hips until she pushed him away, pressing her knees together and relaxing with with a pleased sigh.

Craig wiped his chin on the covers and fished around for his beer by the bed, and crawled up to settle against her side. He picked up her forgotten apple and cut himself a generous wedge. "That was fast."

"Shush," she said halfheartedly, her arm flung over her eyes. "Hormones. These days you'd just have to look at me and I'd come twice."

"Noted." He crunched on his piece of apple, still juicy and sweet despite being wizened with age, slouching back against the bedhead. A little sunlight slipped past the blinds and he belatedly remembered that it was morning outside, bright and cheerful under a big blue sky. Another thing that'd have to change when the baby came. Probably wasn't good to have an infant raised in darkness and asleep all day. He made a note to ask Manny for a duty swap sometime soon; maybe even time it right and get Manny in a mood where he wasn't scowling in Carla's direction. The more she showed, the sharper the other sniper got. Hell if he knew what was that about. Maybe Manny was itching to settle down himself.

He took a contemplative swig of his beer and stared at the wall. Hmm. Maybe he could dip into their savings; maybe buy Carla a painting for the wall. Something bright and cheerful. Maybe… maybe a picture of the lights over New Vegas. She'd like that.

"You're distracted," said Carla, righting his beer before it split onto the covers. "And I believe it's my turn." She wrapped her fingers around his flagging erection and gave him an experimental squeeze, grinning when he sloshed the dregs of his beer in surprise.

"Don't have to do that," he said in the voice of a man who desperately hoped she'd keep on doing exactly that. "You should rest."

"Really?" She craned up to press an opened mouthed kiss to his neck, matched with just enough teeth to make his cock jump. "You really want me to get my beauty sleep? Well, if you insist…"

He groaned in protest and caught her hand in his, showing her just how he wanted her to jerk him off. "F'you insist."

"I do insist. Quite insistently insist." She climbed onto his lap with only a knock and a bump, and gracefully ignored him when he couldn't bite back a grin at her increasing ungainliness. "So… my turn."

"Yeah," he said, palming her breasts and feeling her nipples harden under his fingers. "Do your worst, sweetheart."

"Hmm." She kissed him and tasted the beer on his tongue. "Before me. You remember Splitpea?"

"Yeah," Craig said again. How could he not? He'd grown up on a feedlot outside the massive NCR abattoirs; a place that ran long on stink and short on company. The first person to unbutton his fly and cause him to make a mess of himself had been Splitpea Brown, a cheerful leading hand from the Five Hand ranch just an hour walk south. They'd fooled around together and with whatever girls they could convince to ignore the permanent air of Brahmin dust that clung to their skin.

They'd probably be doing the same thing now, spending all day working 'til the sun set before getting tanked and sucking and fucking around on his dusty little corn husk mattress, 'cept one Spring afternoon an NCR recruiter had spotted Craig squinting through the iron sights of a beat up old rifle and knocking down cans on the far end of the cattleyard. The recruiter promptly offered him an enlistment bonus bigger than his annual wage, and Craig was gone a few days later with a change of clothes in his duffle bag and the bitter taste of Splitpea's cheap red wine still in his mouth.

Splitpea moved east somewhere after that, far enough away that their letters to each other took the best part of a season to arrive. Neither of them were real good at putting pen to paper, sticking to short clumsy sentences about the weather and the cows, but it was a habit that they did their best to keep going. Not long after he got married Splitpea asked for Carla to seal his letter with a kiss - for evidence, he wrote - and she obliged with the deepest berry stain she could fine. Splitpea's response had been enough to make Carla blush when she read it, flattered and flustered equally. He'd always been good at making women do that. Men too.

Some day they'd get their shit together and catch up in Vegas. When the baby was old enough to spend a few days with Daisy, maybe. Rent a room in Gomorrah, one of those beds big enough to roll around in. He'd nursed a decent little fever hot fantasy about being pressed between Carla and Splitpea, embroidered it a little more every few months, and the possibility of it maybe coming true got him all flushed in the cheeks.

Yeah, he remembered Splitpea.

"Not much of a question," he added teasingly, and bit back a chuckle as his pretty wife rolled her eyes.

"It's a two part question," said Carla smoothly. "You're not the only one who needs something to make the cold nights pass faster. Tell me what he was like, you and him together." She sat back on his thighs and rubbed the pad of her thumb along the seam of his cock. He was rock hard and slick, and he let his head drop back with a pleased sigh as she stroked him. "I've told you mine, you tell me yours."

"'Cept yours was - yeah, like that - interesting." He pinched her nipples until she squeaked. "My sweetheart all undone and fucked."

"That interest goes both ways."

"My turn," he said, ignoring her. He rested his hands on the dip of her waist, thumbs stroking over the curve of her belly. "You ever seen a Golden Globes reel?"

Carla raised an eyebrow. "You really think I worked the Gomorrah front desk for two years and never saw a movie night? You're not even trying."

"Sittin' here with the prettiest lady this side of New Reno naked in my lap with her hand in my dick," he said mildly. If she had the agility she would've leaned over to lick at the tendons in his throat, but instead she made do with spitting in her palm and slicking his cock up with long steady strokes. "Makes it hard to think."

"Hmm." She stopped and regarded him thoughtfully. "I suppose I am. Stay here a spell. Maybe… maybe put your hands up on the headboard. Fight temptation."

She rolled off the bed and went to the bathroom, and he could hear her digging around in the little bucket of toiletries she kept under the sink. Craig braced his hands against the headboard, stretching until his muscles burned and the bed frame protested. He couldn't help the goofy smile he felt tugging at the corners of his lips. Lucky. He didn't deserve anything like this. A home, Carla, the baby… lucky, lucky.

Carla shut the bathroom door behind her and tossed the jar of lanolin onto the bed. He kept his hands firmly on the headboard, ignoring the jar as it rolled to settle against his thigh.

"Well trained," she joked and arranged some pillows at her back to take the pressure off her sciatic nerve, curling up at his side. She patted his knee and he obediently spread his legs, his dick twitching with interest as she unscrewed the lid from her little jar and scooped out a dollop of the yellowed lanolin grease.

"Trained by the best," he replied, and dug his toes into the bedspread as Carla slowly - too slowly - rubbed her fingers against him, getting the grease good and slick. She pressed a kiss to the curve if his jaw, and bit down with a press of blunt teeth as he relaxed enough to let her finger him.  
Two fingers to start with, with just enough burn and stretch to focus his attention on the massaging sweep of her fingertips.

This was nothing new. Shit, by the time he felt capable of being anything but a tongue-tied fool around her, Carla had already worked out exactly how to ring his bell and keep him even more dumb and lovestruck. Seemed like every month he'd blow all his wage on the best room he could afford at The Tops to spend his entire R&R with his dick in his hand, panting noiselessly as he fucked himself on her fingers.  
Hell of a thing. Always knew he could pop like a shaken bottle of cola just from someone's fingers; Splitpea learned right quickly how the right combination of his mouth and hands and a few choice words in Craig's ear got him all boneless and stupid like nothing else. He'd just got a bit bashful about it after a fellow recruit had wrinkled her nose in disgust after he'd get the stones up to ask for her fingers, and eventually he figured it just wasn't a thing folks did in the city. Never been so glad to be proven wrong in his life though.

"You're distracted," she said softly, the stroke of her fingers faster now. "You owe me a story."

Craig groaned, his grip on the headboard holding fast. "Not good at telling stories. Not like you."

"C'mon," she teased, drawing her fingers out until just the tips remained inside him before pushing back in, finding just the right angle to hit the spot that made him suck a breath. "Just an average night. You two all bone tired and rolling around in the hay."

"Ok, yeah," he said breathlessly. "Go eat and scrub up, go back to the feed shed. Privacy there."

"And?"

He arched his hips a little, getting into just the right angle for her to hit that little spot that made his nerves sing. "Have a beer or two. Mood was right he'd kiss me 'til I felt ready to blow. Used to lay down head to toe. Head to cock. Abraxo soap and hay and clean skin, reckon I'll know that smell 'til the day I die."

Carla kissed his jaw again, open mouthed and wet.

"We'd get real tired, long days and all. Couldn't be bothered doing anything else. Unbuckle each other and lay down in the barn and--" He trailed off. Her fingers stroked his prostate with every push and pull, a sensation enough to get his neglected cock begging for attention. The hair on his belly was slick and matted with precome, and it was getting harder and harder for him to fight the urge to just let go of the headboard and squeeze his cock and paint that sweet curve of her stomach with his come.

"Focus," she said sharply. "You're not done yet."

He took a deep breath, then another, and another. "Go lay down with my head on his leg. Could always feel his breath. Felt like ants scurrying."

Carla curled her fingers just so and his dick jumped enough to leave a trail of wet from his navel to the crease of his thigh.

"We'd-- fuck sweetheart, that's the spot. Yeah. We'd lay there half asleep and his mouth'd feel so good, I'd get distracted."

"Like you're distracted now?" She ignored his half-formed bark of laughter. "Keep going."

"Reckon I want your mouth." He groaned long and low, dug his heels into the faded floral coverlet and matched the gentle, unhurried flicker of her fingertips against his prostate. "Sweetheart, _please_."

"Soon," she said lightly. "Not until you finish your story."

Craig swore under his breath, his knuckles blanched white as he hung onto the headboard. Some days she'd keep him in the edge so long that he'd end up a sweaty mess with come all over his belly and his vision blurred at the edges, and all without a touch to his cock or the final giddy rush of a fast orgasm. Getting his ass fingered, someone teasing and massaging that little bundle of nerves inside him until he'd messed the sheets and lost the ability to think… it was different kind of pleasure than he got from the enveloping heat of her cunt or the enthusiastic stubble-scrape of a masculine mouth licking him out. Slower. Smaller. A trickle rather than a big ol' crashing wash of satisfaction. Satisfying in a completely different way.

"You lay there," she prompted.

"Goddamnit, woman," he panted. "I'd get distracted and finish before it was fitting. Splitpea'd crawl up'n kiss me. Tasted like beer and come."

Carla kissed his jaw and he turned towards her enough so he could kiss her properly in return, the deep sweep of his tongue a counterpoint to the rhythm of her fingers in his ass.

"I bet he rolled you over," she murmured, and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "I bet you looked so good to him like that, bone tired and spread wide open with your drawers 'round your knees."

"Heh." Craig spread his legs as wide as he could, the cant of his hips a shameless invitation for her to finger him harder. "Always… always a hell of a way to see out a long day. Felt real good out to lay there half asleep as he'd do me real slow. Sometimes just rubbed his cock between my legs." He closed his eyes and exhaled hard. "C'mon sweetheart. Please. That's all I got. You gotta let me."

"Hmm," she said thoughtfully, and giggled at Craig's answering huff of frustration. The tendons of his neck corded as he groaned, and he'd never let go of the headboard the entire time. Good behaviour deserves a reward, after all. "Are you sure?"

Craig swore, and swore again as she crooked her fingers just so and pressed firmly against the tight little bundle of nerves, again and again and again. It was just right to make his hips arch and his cock jerk hard against the wet tangle of hair across his belly, and god knows what kind of pleading babble was falling out of his fool mouth. Lots of _please_ and _fuck_ and _don't stop_ and _stop_ in equal measure, no doubt.

She still caught him by surprise, though. All it took was one last firm sweep over his prostate and a cheeky puff of cool breath over the head of his cock and he came with a shout loud enough to disturb the neighbours, grinding back on her fingers for more sensation that was not enough and too much all at the same time. 

When the haze finally cleared from his head, Carla was gone from his side and the bathroom door was closed. He fished his dirty shirt from where it'd been abandoned by the side of the bed hours ago and half-heartedly blotted himself clean, throwing it at the pile of laundry by the cupboard.

The bathroom door opened and Carla stepped out, brushing the tangles out of her dark hair with the bone comb he'd bought for her last month. He'd taken it to Ranger Andy and paid entirely too much to have the older man carefully write her name on the handle with the help a red hot wire. It wasn't much of a birthday gift, not compared to the extravagances he used to buy her when he was making good money with the NCR, but she'd loved it anyway.

"You want a damp cloth?"

Craig shook his head and patted the coverlet beside him, a clear invitation for her to come back to bed. "Clean enough to not stick to the sheets."

She laughed. "And not stick to me."

"Come to bed."

"In a moment." She smoothed her hair and put the comb back in its pride of place on the metal shelves she'd bought from Daisy last week. _Somewhere for our best things_ she'd said, and kissed him when he scrubbed away the rust with a wire-bristled brush. "Thank you."

He raised an eyebrow. "You getting formal on me?"

"No, you goof." She sat at the edge of the bed and swung her feet under the sheets, settling down with a pleased sigh. "I just had an extra nice morning with you, that's all."

"Every morning is a good morning with you," he said gruffly, still unused to articulating such sentiments out loud. She knew what he meant anyway, and kissed his cheek before turning off her little bedside lamp.

Outside the people of Novac went around their morning under the brilliant Mojave sun, and inside Craig and Carla Boone settled in to sleep, dreaming all the while about Reno prizefighters and ranch hands and the love asleep at their side.


End file.
